


though change will come (oh change will come)

by dizkipling



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-19 09:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizkipling/pseuds/dizkipling
Summary: in the early hours of the morning, they learn what it means to no longer be alone.





	1. one.

**i.**

The low hum of the fluorescent  _Open_  sign was all the sound that passed through the small bakery. From where he was seated– behind a counter less than thirty feet away–  the sound sent Adam Parrish into a daze. The radio had long since been turned off, having annoyed one of his coworkers some two hours ago. She was now gone, yet the quiet remained. 

Blurry-eyed, he kept fixated on the flickering light near the shop's entrance, counting down second by second the minutes until his replacement would walk through the door. 

_Thirty-six-_

_-thirty-seven_.

 When he got to sixty, Adam turned his head to watch as the hand on the clock moved over to the next increment. 

2:17 a.m. 

Forty-three minutes stood in the way of him packing up and making the walk back to his dorm. He'd have just enough time to get a few hours of rest before his 8 a.m. calculus class.

“ _No-_ ” He said the word aloud, the memory of calculus momentarily bringing him back to the present.

Adam winced, remembering it was now a Thursday and his professor would be expecting his homework at the start of the class. Of the forty-some problems assigned to be done over the course of the week, Adam had completed six. Maybe.

When he had agreed to pick up the extra hours, he hadn't realized they would stretch into the early hours of the morning, nor had he factored in his calculus homework being incomplete. No matter, he was used to little sleep. The money and the grades were his concern.

Covering a yawn with one hand, he used his other to turn the dial on the outdated radio seated next to him. An old song, one Adam didn't recognize, was finishing up. Replacing it was something much newer, though Adam couldn't place the name or the artist. He fumbled with the dials, adjusting the volume and changing the station until he found something he knew. He'd been so distracted with the radio, however, that he missed the ding of the bell signaling someone had entered the shop. 

Perhaps his relief was here early, he thought, now hearing the soft footsteps as they approached the counter. When Adam looked up, he pushed such thoughts out of his mind. _40 minutes_.

He'd hardly the time to take in the boy standing before him's appearance before a few dollar bills were being pushed in his direction. In a voice laced with the traces of alcohol, the customer asked for two coffees, black.  

“Sure thing,” Adam responded, collecting the money. When he tried to hand the customer back his change, Adam was refused. He was too tired to resist. Instead, he pushed the leftover coins into his back pocket and went to the coffee pots that lined the back wall of the shop. He hoped the brew wasn't stale, or that the person before him wouldn't take notice. 

Handing him the two cups, Adam gave another small nod to the customer and told him to enjoy. He was given a nod back as the boy turned and took a seat near the door.

Adam himself resumed his spot on the stool behind the counter, though now he was forced to look elsewhere. The  _Open_ sign flickered just above the table the boy had claimed and Adam certainly didn't want to seem as though he was starring. Instead he watched the clock, watched as the minutes ticked by until he had but thirty minutes left of his shift. At least now he would have something to occupy his time with. He could hear his boss’s voice in his head, outlining the 30-minute routine again and again.

He stood up slowly, eyes giving a quick check to make sure the boy was alright, before finding the cleaning supplies. The routine of wiping down countertops and tables became as methodical as watching hands on a clock tick. 

He cleaned, humming along to a familiar tune as it played aloud on the radio. In those early hours of the morning, Adam Parrish was sent back into his daze, the stranger in the shop long forgotten. 

 _Spray, wipe, and move on_.  _Spray, wipe, and -_

“Excuse me,” Adam's attention left behind the tables and the  _Open_  sign and the ticking clock, focusing now on the stranger and his voice. 

Cleaning could wait.

 

* * *

 

**ii.**

Ronan Lynch kept his eyes down, keeping his focus on nothing other than the small coffee cup he held between his hands. The clock reminded him of the hour, nearly three in the morning. There was not, however, a sign indicating where he was. The last he remembered, the bus was pulling out of a station in Virginia. For all he knew, he could be halfway across the country. 

Ronan didn't care. 

He saw this as the opportunity he had been unwilling to take before. He would leave the shop once his head cleared, then take to the streets until he found a place to rest. Come morning he would reassess.  _Or_ , a voice in the back of his head piped up,  _you could ask the boy behind the counter_. Ronan raised his eyes from the coffee, tilting his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the cashier. 

The cashier took no notice of Ronan, causing the slightest sense of disappointment to fester within him. The last thing he wanted to be was an inconvenience. When he looked over for a second time, Ronan noticed he had gotten up. In fact, he was walking towards the table Ronan sat at.

He prepared a small speech in his head, trying his best to recount the events that brought him to his present location. He didn't want to fabricate an untrue story for the weary-eyed boy. When he opened his mouth to start, it was then that Ronan noticed the cashier had walked past him to a different table. 

Ronan watched the boy move from table to table, quickly wiping them down. He waited his turn, but no notice was taken. His head was spinning now, a rush of faded memories and caffeine and whatever alcohol lingered in his system. He didn't realize it until the boy was hovering over him that he had even spoken. 

“Can I help you?”

Ronan looked up, head cocked to one side, “Hm?” he gave a mumble, blinking at the fluorescent lights shining above the cashier’s head, not unlike a halo.  _Poetic bullshit_ , Ronan thought. The image did not leave him; rather, it brought back the memories he ran from. Of Declan, of Sunday services at the church, of his father.

“You said ‘excuse me;’ I thought you needed something.” His words, though questioning, were not unkind. Ronan watched as the cashier glanced over to the clock, as though anticipating something. 

“It's late,” was all he said. 

He watched the cashier’s shoulders move up and down, having found Ronan's words funny. “Yeah,” he said in response, “it is.” He said it in the same way Ronan would say _No shit,_ though without the venom that all too often accompanied his speech.

For some time, the only sound that passed through the shop was a song the radio DJ had dubbed ‘today's hit’. The cashier was turning to leave when Ronan broke the uneasy silence between them. “Where are we?” He looked down into his coffee, now cold, as he said this. He didn't know what kind of reaction the answer would evoke within him. 

“Massachusetts.”

 _Fuck_.

“Massachusetts.” Ronan repeated, as though disbelieving. He didn't remember the bus ride being nearly that long. 

“Cambridge, actually.”

“Harvard?”

“MIT.”

Ronan didn't know much about college, having decided himself not to attend. He did know the big names, however, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology was among them. The dumbfounded expression on his face caught the attention of the cashier. “You’re not from around here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Neither are you.” The words came out as an accusation, though it had not been his intention. Or perhaps it had been. Ronan’s head spun faster; he starred deeper into the black liquid.

The cashier made no comment, and Ronan didn’t want to see his face. If he sat there long enough, hand clenched around the coffee cup and eyes averted, the boy would return to his cleaning and the encounter would be forgotten.

“If you need a place to stay,” Ronan nearly spilled over one of his cups when he heard the cashier speak again, “there’s a hotel two blocks from here that doesn’t charge much a night.” He watched him scratch the back of his head, as if there was more to what he had already said.

“Thanks.” Ronan didn’t allow him to get anything else out, “Thanks, uh…?”

“Adam.”

 _Adam_. Ronan tried the name out in his head. He was about to give his own name when the bell above the door jingled and Adam’s attention went elsewhere.

“Parrish,” the newcomer gave Adam a nod as he walked behind the counter. Ronan then watched as Adam himself picked up the cleaning supplies and returned to his spot behind the counter without so much as another word. Unable to hear what the two workers said to one another, Ronan returned to his coffee, repeating the same two words over and over in his head. _Adam. Parrish. Adam Parrish. Parrish._

“I’m on my way out,” Ronan turned to see Adam behind him, now with an old and faded book bag slung around one shoulder, “I could show you the hotel.”

Gingerly Ronan stood, “Sure, okay.” He didn’t want to argue; he’d be on his own again soon enough. And wasn’t that what he wanted? A few more minutes of company could do him some good.

Leaving the coffee cups behind, Ronan Lynch followed Adam out of the bakery and into the cool, early morning air.

 

* * *

 

 

**iii.**

Adam Parrish didn’t know what he was doing. He hadn’t even learned the boy walking beside him’s name, let alone where he had come from. And yet something in his expression, in those hungry eyes, invited Adam in. The least he could do was find him a place to sleep.

“I could be a serial killer.” The voice beside him said.

“So could I.”

Adam pressed on, maybe he had made a mistake.

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

This caused a low rumble of laughter to erupt from his new companion, “Your name is Adam Parrish and you work at _Celia’s_.” There was a pause. “And you try too hard to hide where you come from. But you’re right, I don’t know anything about you.”

Adam stopped walking. Yes, he had definitely made a mistake. “We’re almost there. Just take a left at the next intersection and you’ll find it.” He was tired, and he didn’t want to be having this conversation with a stranger.

They made it to the intersection, Adam walking one way while the boy who had occupied over an hour of his time went the other. When they were far enough away, and Adam had just begun to regain some clarity and composure, he heard the voice.

“If it matters, my name’s Ronan.”

Adam turned. _Ronan_. He wanted to call back, to say something, but Ronan had already disappeared through the hotel’s door. With that, Adam straightened himself and prepared to finish the walk back to his dorm alone.

He told himself that Ronan would soon fade from his memories.

 

* * *

 

 

**iv.**

“I’m sorry, sir.” The woman at the front desk said, “We’re completely booked. If want, I could see what we have for tomorrow?”

The woman was offering him a sad smile, as though she genuinely felt bad about being unable to offer him a place to stay. Ronan shook his head; if it were up to him, he would be gone by tomorrow. “Sorry for wasting your time,” he said. With that, Ronan retreated through the automatic doors.

He was back on his own.

The all too familiar feeling began to creep through him, weighing on him in those early hours of the morning. He was in an unfamiliar city, and he was alone. Wasn’t that what he wanted? To distance himself? Now that he had succeeded, Ronan wasn’t entirely sure. 

He crossed the street where he and Adam had parted, shaking his head as he did so. He shouldn’t have given his name, given him a tie to a life he was so desperately trying to leave behind. And yet he felt he owed it to Adam. It wasn’t his fault for working in the shop Ronan had happened to stumble into, nor was it his fault for getting him this far. He deserved _something_.

Behind his eyes a fire burned, a war being waged. Though, as he walked, Ronan was unsure as to who he was fighting. Maybe it was himself, a thought Ronan elected to ignore. In his experience, harboring feelings only caused pain.

Losing his father taught him that.

He kept his eyes down, pushing on through the streets. His head was spinning, though the alcohol had long worn off. He needed to _feel_ , and yet feared the consequences. His senses were brought back to him as he bumped into someone walking along the same path.

Ronan didn’t stop, he didn’t apologize, he simply kept walking.

“Ronan?”

 _Ronan_. He repeated it, his own name, to himself. He liked the way the voice said it better. There was no bile, no malice in the way the syllables were pronounced. There was concern.

“Adam Parrish.”

Ronan didn’t turn around, but he had stopped walking. He simply stood, waiting for Adam to catch up. “I thought you’d have been at the hotel. I saw you, I mean.”

“Didn’t work out.” Ronan shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. He thought the conversation would end there, was even prepared to watch Adam walk away without question. He could see Adam deliberating the words in his head, testing them out on himself before speaking them aloud. 

“Do you need somewhere to stay?”

“No.” Ronan was quick to answer, almost too quick. He bit at his lower lip, waiting for Adam to ask again. When he didn’t, it was Ronan who decided he needed to put his pride aside. “Yes.”

The day had begun to weigh on him, his shoulders slumped low and his eyes heavy. The two didn’t make conversation, letting the sounds of the city be all the noise that passed between them. Yet as he walked with Adam to his dorm, Ronan was grateful.

 

* * *

 

 

**v.**

Adam swiped into his room and turned the light on, Ronan lingering a few paces back. The room itself was small, meant only for one person. The unmade bed and pile of books scattered across the desk did not aid in making the room look any bigger.

“So, uh,” Adam scratched the back of his head, “there’s a bathroom down the hall.”

Ronan wasn’t looking at him, too busy taking in the sights. Adam followed his gaze to one of the posters he had tacked onto the wall. “I didn’t know people still watched _The X-Files_.” Ronan turned back to him as he said this. Neither his tone nor his face allowed Adam to believe he was being mocked.

“Yeah,” Adam shrugged. Something about all of this didn’t seem right to him. No one had ever been in his room before. He had moved in alone. When he was asked where his parents were, he simply said that they were working. It was a lie, but it went unquestioned. He had friends, or at least people he talked to, but none of them had ever entered his room. Ronan was the first.

A quick glance over to his clock told him it was nearly 4 a.m. The thought of calculus homework became daunting, but he told himself he’d finish. “You can take the bed,” he was looking at Ronan again. “I have stuff to finish up and class to go to. I’ll be back by 10, but if you want to go before then, just make sure the door locks." 

Adam could see the unease in Ronan’s face as he took a seat on the bed. He watched Ronan kick off his shoes, though he remained seated, as if needing permission to lay down. Adam himself grabbed his calculus book and took a seat at his desk. He’d just settled in on a problem when he heard Ronan’s voice.

“Ronan Lynch. Henrietta, Virginia.” And then he apologized, as though feeling sorry for breaking Adam’s concentration. Quickly he added, “I figured you’d relax if you knew more than a first name.”

Adam set his pencil down; he hadn’t realized how tense he must have seemed. When he turned, he saw Ronan smile, a smile full of gasoline and cigarette lighters and long nights spent alone in the dark.

Slowly, Adam responded. “My parents live in Henrietta.”

“And you don’t?”

Adam chuckled, scrunching his eyes closed as he formulated his response, “No.” When he opened his eyes, Ronan’s smile remained.

The conversation did not dwindle down, as Adam thought it might. Instead, Ronan nodded to the _X-Files_ poster. “Do you believe?”

“No.” He repeated the word, though without the same inflection as he had when Ronan had asked about where he lived. This was less forceful, less full of unspoken hostility. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Adam could tell he wanted to say more, though he did not press. He was quickly learning that if Ronan wanted to say something, he would say it when he wanted. After nothing more than a few seconds passed, Ronan spoke again. “I should probably let you get back to work.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Adam starred down at the page of equations he would have to solve. There was no way he was finishing before class. His head was spinning and the numbers began to blur together. His concentration was gone, lost amongst memories both old and new.

Adam Parrish didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t believe in extraterrestrials coming down to Earth, nor did he believe in the supernatural. Meeting Ronan Lynch wasn’t fate as far as Adam was concerned. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad it had happened.

 

* * *

 

 

**vi.**

Ronan was tired, _really tired_. It was a feeling that had come and gone and now it rushed through him. It was the sensation of being knocked down by a wave, over and over, never being able to stand back up. Yet, for all the yawns he tried to cover and the eyes that threatened to close, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He couldn’t bring himself to even lie down on Adam’s bed. So he sat, watching the boy at the desk. The pencil hadn’t moved in some time, leading Ronan to believe that Adam was no longer working.

He stood up from the unmade bed, “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he left the room, making sure to close the door behind him before walking down the hall and towards the bathroom. At this hour, no one was there.

Ronan studied himself in the mirror for some time, turning his head this way and that. Placing a hand under the automatic sink, he allowed the water to pass over his skin. He shuddered at the touch, a cool rush passing through his body. Taking his hand away, he let it touch over his face, wet fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.

The sensation brought everything back into focus. Without so much as another glance at his reflection, Ronan left the bathroom and walked back down the hall.

 _Fuck_.

He had never learned Adam’s room number. Nor was there any indicator as to which room was his. He always thought that college dorms would have decorative nametags pinned to the door made by an over-zealous RA. Then again, the only college he was familiar with came from fiction. Another thought occurred to him; why had he shut the door? He knew he couldn’t get back in without a key.

“Fuck.” This time he said the word aloud, just loud enough that the person inside the room he was closest to could hear it. _If that person was awake_ , Ronan reminded himself. 

Ronan Lynch did believe in fate. He believed in a form of justice that came to those deserving of it, good or bad. Now, as he stood alone in the dimly lit hallway, he believed he was experiencing justice. It was as though every mistake he had made, every tie he had cut, tipped the scales in favor of punishment. He realized then that he hadn’t even put his shoes back on.

He began to pace until he heard the sound of a door open. He didn’t care who it was, these were Adam’s hallmates, surely they would know where he stayed. When he saw that it was Adam looking at him, Ronan didn’t know what to think.

“I thought you left.” Adam admitted, not leaving his doorway.

Ronan walked over to him, “I would have at least grabbed my shoes.”

Something about his response made Adam smile, or maybe it was the absurdity of the events that had unfolded. “Do you want them?” Adam asked, nodding his head inside to where the shoes were.

“Yeah.”

Adam moved aside so Ronan could enter the room. He reclaimed his seat on the bed, and as he went to put his shoes back on heard Adam say, “I’m not kicking you out.”

 _Oh_.

Ronan sat up a little, forgetting about his shoes. “Do you want your bed back?” As much as he needed it, he figured Adam needed it more. He was prepared to get up, to take the floor.

“No.” Came Adam’s quick reply, saying it as though the thought of Ronan giving up the bed was unfathomable. “I have class at 8; there’s no point in me taking the bed when I’d only have to step over you to get in and out.”

Ronan Lynch was quickly discovering just how stubborn Adam Parrish could be. Though, perhaps stubborn wasn’t the right word. Ronan saw a fire in him, a desire to prove himself. A self-made man.   

“Take the pillow.” Ronan urged, tossing it over to Adam. He could see the traces of a smile flicker across Adam’s face. He would never have asked for the pillow, yet the silent gratitude was there.

He watched as Adam set the pillow on the ground and moved over to the light switch. The early traces of a sunrise crept through the window, becoming the only source of light once the switch was turned off. In that hazy light, Ronan watched Adam spread himself on the floor, arms curling up around the pillow. It couldn’t be at all comfortable.

Ronan then spread himself across the mattress, keeping his body toward Adam as he lay there. “Hey, Adam?” His words came out question-like, unsure of himself.

“Hm?”

“Don’t get abducted, okay?”

“Goodnight, Ronan.”

 _Goodnight_. Ronan couldn’t think of the last time someone had told him that. It was certainly before his father had died, perhaps when his mother used to come sit by his bed. She’d kiss his forehead and Ronan would grimace, and then she’d say goodnight. How far away those nights seemed now.

Closing his eyes, he repeated Adam’s words:

“Goodnight.”


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions and memories of abuse are also present, so please be careful.

**i.**

Ronan woke to a patch of sunlight on his face, streaming in through the window and its half-drawn blind. Blinking back the last traces of sleep, it took him a minute to assess where he was. When he realized that it was not his bedroom in Henrietta, he felt his skin prickle as that cold feeling of dread settled over him. 

" _Fuck_."

Ronan said it aloud, not monitoring his volume. It was one long, pronounced _fuck_ that truly encapsulated everything he had felt and was currently feeling. He sat up, too quickly, and watched as the world spun for a moment. He was panicked and confused and alone. 

 _Alone_. 

Where was Adam? Ronan had to think for a moment, to make sure that Adam truly was his name– that Adam was real–  and not someone he had dreamt up in a moment of desperation. The feeling of disorientation stayed with him as he took a few attempts to stand up from the bed. He had just managed to stand when the door opened, Adam hovering in the doorway. Definitely real.

"You're still here." It wasn't a question, but there was something unmistakable about the way Adam said it. Perhaps relief was the best way to describe it. When Ronan didn't respond, Adam spoke again. "Are you hungry?"

Ronan couldn't deny the pull of his stomach, urging him to eat something. For all he knew, the only thing he had consumed in the last 24 hours had been coffee and liquor. "Not really." It was a lie. Ronan knew it was a lie, and by the way Adam was looking at him, he too knew it was a lie. Ronan didn’t usually lie, but when he did, it was obvious. "I mean, I guess. A little." Ronan shrugged, as if unimpressed. 

"Okay," Adam began to walk about the room, "why don't you get ready and we can find somewhere in town? Or I could swipe you in at our dining hall? It's really not a big deal."

Ronan nodded slowly, trying to take in everything Adam had said. He wasn't being kicked out, and now they were going to share a meal together. Ronan quickly bent down to pick up his shoes. It was then, when he began to slip on the worn boots, that he realized he hadn't brought anything else with him. 

"I'm ready." He was almost embarrassed to admit this, but played it off with an even tone. He felt his back pocket, and, to his relief, his wallet was still in there. Shoes and a wallet and the clothes on his back were all that Ronan had left. 

Adam eyed him, "You're ready?"

"I said I was, didn't I?"

Adam didn't like his reply, "You got on a bus–" Ronan nodded, thinking Adam had finished his interrogation, and that they could finally leave the room. “–and you didn't bring anything with you?"

"I was drunk."

"That's always the excuse, isn't it?" Ronan thought he saw something flash behind Adam's eyes, but the moment didn’t last. Ronan blinked and Adam’s expression was gone. Adam stood a little straighter, addressing Ronan with the same tired, yet kind, eyes from hours before. 

"You can wear something of mine, if you'd like."

"Wouldn't fit."

Adam elected to ignore the comment, and Ronan watched as he opened his drawer to toss the first shirt his hands touched over to him. Ronan did no more than glance at the shirt before he balled it back up and threw it at Adam. Adam, who had been in the process of closing his drawer, was an unsuspecting victim to Ronan's childish attack. The shirt fell helplessly to the floor. 

When Adam turned to look at him, he saw Ronan's deadpan expression. "I prefer Pepsi," was all Ronan said of the matter.

On the floor, the _Coca-Cola_ shirt now lay in a heap. Ronan watched as Adam reached down to pick it up and he neatly folded it before putting it back in his drawer.  

"Let's go."

 

* * *

 

 

**ii.**

Adam Parrish was having a terrible morning, and he was tired of keeping it to himself. He was tired in every sense of the word, but he was also tired of being tired. As he walked beside Ronan, he felt something he had tried for so long to ignore. 

Envy was one word for it.

Ronan, with his cool temperament and carefree saunter, was something Adam could never be. And that hurt, just a little. 

It had been so long since he hadn't felt exhaustion seep through every inch of his body, so long since he hadn't meticulously studied everything he did. Errors led to failure, and failure wasn't an option. Sleep became an afterthought.

"Where are we going?" Ronan's voice broke Adam's train of thought, snapping him back to the present. 

"Somewhere in town." In truth, Adam hadn't thought one bit about where he would take Ronan. Had he not passed the student union five minutes ago, he would have been content eating a prepaid meal there. In fact, the further he got from campus, the more the voice telling him not to make unnecessary purchases nagged at him.

 _Too late_.

In the end, Adam led him to an inexpensive, locally owned sandwich shop. He had been there once before, and from what he remembered, it was perfectly adequate.

“Is this where you take all of your dates?”

Adam nearly choked on a piece of ice.

He and Ronan sat across from one another, food in front of them but neither of them eating. Adam set down his glass of water, fighting back a fit of coughs.

“No.” His reply was short, hoping it would be enough for Ronan to stop his inquiry.

And it was, for Ronan had picked up his sandwich and began to bite it with the same fever Adam noticed he carried out all of his actions with. There was something almost hostile about the way Ronan ate, as if the sandwich had wronged him in some way. Adam picked up his own sandwich and began to eat it. Music and voices filled the shop, enough noise to dismiss any uneasiness between the two boys. They sat and they ate and nothing about their actions seemed wrong.

Everything felt natural. 

Adam had a feeling it wouldn’t last.

 

* * *

 

 

**iii.**

Ronan couldn’t mask his discomfort when he and Adam walked out of the shop. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, head ducked just slightly. He knew what was coming, he just didn’t want to say it aloud. It took him a moment to collect himself, and when he did, he stopped walking.

“I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Adam stopped walking, turning so that his eyes now fell on Ronan. “You’re leaving?”

There was something unmistakable about the way Adam said it. _You’re leaving?_ Ronan thought he heard shock in Adam’s voice. It made it seem as though Adam cared what became of Ronan. He quickly pushed down whatever his observations made him feel.

“You have a life and I should let you get back to it.”

Adam nodded, slowly, knowing he couldn’t deny what Ronan said to him. Ronan watched his movements with interest, picking up Adam’s thoughts and feelings without a word being said. He watched Adam run a hand through his hair, watched the way his eyes focused only on Ronan. Ronan’s own feelings were getting harder to suppress. _He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. You don’t care._

“What are you going to do?” Adam asked.

“I’ll figure it out.” What he didn’t say was that he’d find some alcohol and drink it alone. Then he’d get back on a bus and go somewhere else. He couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, go back to Henrietta. He didn’t want to stay here either. The longer he stayed, the more he felt himself growing attached to Adam. Perhaps attached wasn’t the right word; Ronan saw possibility there, the possibility and potential for something like a friendship.

The last thing Ronan wanted was to come to care about someone he’d met twelve hours before. Caring led to vulnerability and vulnerability led to that sense of hurt that Ronan felt whenever he thought back to everything he had left behind. 

So he would leave, go out on his own. If he was on his own, he could only hurt himself. Ronan liked it better that way.

“Well,” Adam said, sticking a hand out for Ronan to shake, “I guess I’ll say goodbye.”

Ronan took his hand, “Thanks.” _Thank you for taking me in, for talking to me, for everything._ Never one for sentimentalities, Ronan left the rest of his thoughts unsaid.

“Sure.”

Their hands fell back to their sides. Ronan prepared to leave, offering up a final, “Bye, Parrish,” before walking in the opposite direction of Adam’s campus. Not using his first name was a deliberate choice, a reminder to himself that his time with Adam had been spent. He didn’t know where he was going, but he would figure it out. He kept walking, head down. He didn’t look back, and if Adam said anything else to him, Ronan ignored it.

He was on his own. He wanted this.

 _He wanted this. He wanted this._  

Ronan repeated it to himself as he walked. The more he thought it, the more he believed it. Adam Parrish was already fading into a distant memory.

 

* * *

 

 

**iv.**

The room felt empty when Adam walked back into it. In the time he had left with Ronan to his subsequent return, the aura of the room shifted. What Adam didn’t understand was why. He was used to being on his own, and aside from Ronan, no one else had ever stepped foot into his room. If anything, things had returned to normal. He would go to work and then come back and finish up any homework he had for the following day.

His clock let him know his shift didn’t start for another five hours, leaving him with nothing but time to sit and contemplate the turn his life had just taken. His body told him to sleep, or perhaps even to take a shower, but both allowed his mind to wander in ways he wished it not to. Instead, Adam sat down at his desk and opened up one of his textbooks.

It was an architectural textbook, something Adam wasn’t at all interested in. He had needed a credit, however, and the class seemed easy enough. He busied himself with the history of architecture of the ancient world, pausing only when he misread the words _Roman Empire_.

When it happened again, further down the page, Adam closed the book and stood up from his desk. A look to his clock told him he had spent exactly fifteen minutes reading, leaving him more than four and a half hours until the start of his shift.

He hastily gathered up his things and walked down the hall to the bathroom. A shower, he thought, might actually do him some good. With the warm water on his back, Adam’s mind was free to wander.

He thought about his classes, which ones he liked, which ones he didn’t. His professors were always encouraging, but Adam could see they expected more from him. The problem with that, however, was that Adam wasn’t sure how much more he could give. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was burned out. Between work and school and more work, Adam had a hard time using his spare moments to enjoy life. He knew he had to keep going, but did not truly grasp what he was sacrificing to do so.

As he ran a hand full of shampoo through his hair, his mind elected to change directions. Behind his eyes, the Henrietta welcome sign flashed. It was an ugly thing, always sporting a new layer of graffiti. It didn’t take long before the Parrish family’s double wide became the focus of his thoughts.

The water from the shower was hot, but that didn’t stop Adam’s skin from prickling with an invisible chill. He blinked, several times in quick succession, hoping he could clear the image of his father standing over him, fist raised, from his mind. Though several hundred miles and countless hours away, Adam could still feel Robert Parrish’s fist connecting with his jaw, sure it had been broken.

The already small shower seemed to close in on him, and Adam quickly shut off the water. He gathered his things, wrapping a towel around his waist before returning to his room. His fingers trembled as he swiped into his room, and continued to tremble as he sat down on his bed.

Everything he ran from, memories that he refused to let even skim the surface were coming back. They crashed like waves over him, engulfing him and keeping him under their strong current. He thought he might drown.

 _You’re safe. He can’t reach you. You’ll never see him again_. Adam’s breathing was ragged as he repeated the words over and over. Robert Parrish couldn’t get to him here, and Adam would never have to return to Henrietta. He was safe.

Instead of focusing on himself, he wondered what Ronan was doing. It had been nearly two hours since the two had said their hasty goodbyes, enough time for Ronan to have gotten on a bus in search of a new city to run to. He only hoped Ronan could figure himself out before he did something he’d come to regret.

But I’ll never know, Adam reminded himself. He would never see Ronan Lynch again. 

When it came time for work, Adam was grateful for the feeling of the wind slapping against his face as he made his walk.

 

* * *

 

 

**v.**

Ronan Lynch liked the atmosphere of a college town. Or rather, he liked how accessible alcohol was. He staggered around the city like a forgotten king, concealing his bottle until he was out of sight. No one knew who he was, and he liked that. He would be gone from their minds, as they would be from his. He would soon fade into the folds of history as though he were never there.

He was sure Adam Parrish had already forgotten him.

 _Adam Parrish_.

Ronan had been on his own for what felt like hours, but he couldn’t get the other boys name, his face, his smile, out of his head. He took another sip from the bottle.

It was getting late, the sun hanging low in the sky. From where he sat, camped out beside a dumpster, he knew he couldn’t stay there all night. It took him a few tries, but he managed to stand, his free hand resting on top of the dumpster.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said it aloud, voiced raised slightly. There was no one around him, no one to hear him swear and smash the bottle against the side of the building he currently faced. He was spiraling, mind thrown askew by liquor and anxieties alike. Ronan Lynch was a volcano prepared for eruption, ready to obliterate anything that got in his way.

And he hated it.

He was unsteady on his feet, but with careful steps he left the alley. The wind had picked up, bringing a chill to the air. In his black tank top, Ronan was horribly underdressed. Still, he managed to walk down the street, going so far as the intersection before a bit of neon caught his attention.

 _Celia’s 24-Hour Bakery_ was inviting him in. He thought the sign looked familiar, but his mind was still too bogged down with alcohol to make any meaningful connection. He walked in, the bell above the door jingling as he did so.

His plan was to get himself a coffee, and once his head cleared, to get on a bus and leave Cambridge, Massachusetts in the same manner with which he left Henrietta. Quietly, and with no intention of returning.

Fate, as it was, had a different plan.

“Ronan?” He recognized the voice before he saw the face. As Ronan approached the counter, eyes now forward, he found himself looking at Adam Parrish.

“Hi.” He kept his words short, not wanting Adam to pick up on his lack of sobriety. It was to no avail; Ronan reeked of liquor.

“Two coffees, black?” Before Ronan had the chance to reply, Adam added, “Shit that was weird, sorry. What would you like?”

Whilst digging in his pocket for his wallet, Ronan asked for one cup, black. He handed Adam the money, and when Adam tried to hand Ronan his change, he was once again refused.

“Keep it.”

“Are we going to keep doing this?” Adam asked, taking Ronan’s change and setting it aside.

“Doing what?” Ronan replied, accepting the cup of coffee from Adam.

Adam gestured around, “You showing up drunk while I’m at work, demanding coffee, and then giving me your pity change.”

Ronan set his cup down on the counter, eyes narrowed. “Pity change?”

Adam didn’t have time to answer, the bell signaled someone new had entered the shop. Ronan quietly backed away, leaving Adam to take care of the newcomer. He knew he should have left, disappeared before he allowed things to escalate. But he still felt the effects of the alcohol, and he wanted to let Adam have one more word. It was only fair.

He gravitated toward one of the tables near the entrance, possibly the same one as before. Cup in hand, he sat, eyes down and not listening to the sound of Adam’s voice as he struck up a conversation with the newest customer. No, definitely not listening. Nor did he sneak glances over to Adam as he was joined by someone Ronan presumed was a coworker.

“You can take your 15 if you’d like, dear.” The woman, significantly older, said to him.

Ronan kept his eyes fixed on the coffee as it swirled around in the cup, not taking notice of anything going on around him until the sound of a chair squeaking across the floor alerted him that someone had joined his table.

“We have 15 minutes,” he looked up, hearing Adam’s voice from across the table. There was something like resentment still in his words, but his eyes were kind. Ronan nodded, hands clenched around his cup 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

**vi.**

Adam Parrish wasn’t sure why he was using his break to talk to Ronan. The same Ronan who had vowed to let him get back to his life and then showed up to his work, _intoxicated_. “I’m not going to apologize for what I said.” Adam began, letting his arms rest comfortably on the table. “But, I at least owe you an explanation.”

“No you don’t.”

“Let me talk. _Please_.” Despite his frustration, Adam lowered his voice, knowing his coworker could be listening.

“Adam, I don’t care why you won’t accept my change. I really don’t.”

Adam was rapidly losing patience, wondering if he had been wrong to trust Ronan. He was wasting his break on a conversation that seemed more and more meaningless as the seconds ticked by. Realizing it was in his best interest, he turned the conversation back on Ronan.

“Why are you here?”

Ronan leaned closer, allowing Adam the chance to smell the liquor on his breath. “Fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.” If there were supernatural laws that governed the universe, Adam Parrish was reluctant to believe in them. Ronan didn’t look impressed.

“Then how did I get here, enlightened one?” Ronan relaxed into his seat, arms now resting behind his head.

Every answer Adam came up with in his head sounded unconvincing to him. And the smirk on Ronan’s face did little to help him say anything he truly believed in. Adam Parrish didn’t believe in fate, but even he had to admit seeing Ronan again couldn’t have been a coincidence. “You stalked me?” Was all he offered up, sounding defeated.

Ronan gave a laugh, one loud _Ha_ , drawing the attention of Adam’s coworker, “I stalked you?”

“You could have.” Ronan’s own amusement did nothing to alleviate the feeling of regret building up within Adam. “I have to get back to work.” He didn’t, he still had seven minutes, but he wanted to get as far away from the conversation as he could.

“I’ll wait.”

And he did. For the entirety of Adam’s shift, Ronan sat in the chair by the entrance, taking sips of coffee as Adam’s coworker rushed to refill it every so often. When Adam went to leave, Ronan followed.

“What is your problem?” Was the first thing Adam said.

They were outside of the shop now, the city lights hiding the stars that began to dance across the night sky. The wind had picked up again, and despite his jacket, Adam shivered. He figured Ronan had to be cold as well, but knew better than to comment on it.

“I have a problem?” It was said as a question, Ronan pointing a mocking finger at his own chest. “Me? What about you, Adam? What’s _your_ problem?”

 _I’m always tired. People always want more from me. I don’t have a home. I’m alone. I’m alone_. “You said you didn’t want an explanation.” He kept his voice calm, letting anything unsaid dissolve before it reached the surface.

“I changed my mind.”

Instead of answering, Adam began to walk in the direction of his dorm. Ronan followed in step beside him. Adam didn’t respond until they crossed the first intersection, and when he did, it was a short, “So did I.”

“Just say you want me to leave you alone and I will.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re implying it.”

Adam stopped walking, face inches from Ronan’s as he spoke. “If you’re going to be a dick about this, then maybe you should go.”

“Fine.”

 _That’s not what I want_. Adam didn’t say it aloud, how could he? It wasn’t until Ronan had turned away, already walking back in the direction of _Celia’s_ that Adam called out. “I’m sorry.” His apology, as short as it was, caught Ronan’s attention. “And,” Ronan was walking towards him, “if you want, you can stay with me again.” An offer he knew Ronan wouldn’t refuse.

“Well, let’s go.” 

Just like that, they fell back in stride with one another, letting the sounds of the city guide them back to Adam’s room.

 

* * *

 

 

**vii.**

In the twelve hours Ronan had been away, Adam’s room had not changed one bit. He followed Adam in, hovering awkwardly by the door until Adam invited him to sit on his bed. Ronan obliged, too tired to object. Adam took up a seat at his desk, and everything began to fall back into place.

“I don’t know what it’s like to have someone take an interest in me.” Ronan watched Adam as he spoke, eyes committing to memory the way he shaped his words to conceal his Henrietta accent.

“Not one person?” Ronan asked, finding it a little hard to believe. Sure, Adam was stubborn, quick to argue, but there was something unmistakably kind about him. Someone who had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“No one who really means it.”

Ronan took a minute, choosing his words carefully. He knew Adam hadn’t asked, but he felt it was time he started providing answers of his own. Adam appeared as reluctant as he was to open up, the least he could do was offer a few words of his own. “I left because of my brother.”

“That’s it?”

“No, that’s not it.” He kept his eyes on Adam. “My father was murdered,” no point in sugarcoating it, Ronan thought. “And according to his will, I was supposed to inherit our family’s property.” He could picture it, the Barns– a kingdom now tainted by a jealous usurper. “My brother found this unfair. He took it away, all of it.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

Ronan laughed, that loud _Ha_. “He found Dad’s codicil, or whatever it’s called. I, along with my two brothers, are not allowed to step foot on the property so long as our mother lives.” He said it with such formality that he couldn’t help but smirk.

Adam looked lost, “You can’t step foot on the property?”

Ronan shook his head.

“That doesn’t seem like enough reason to leave.”

Ronan’s smirk grew, illuminating his face, “It is when you get caught.”

He wouldn’t soon forget the feeling of being escorted off the property, his own property. He had violated the will, and the result left him with nothing. When his mother died, the keys to the Barns would now fall in Declan’s hands. Ronan didn’t believe the legality of it, but he had no choice. The following morning, he had boarded a bus. Now he sat on Adam’s bed.

“You didn’t have anyone to stay with?”

Ronan stopped for a minute, Adam’s words causing several faces to appear. There _were_ people he had left behind, people he had disappeared on without any final goodbyes. For the first time, Ronan wondered what they might be feeling, wondering if they’d be worried or relieved.

He hoped for the latter, but believed it’d be the former.

“I was living with some people.”

“Was?”

“Well I’m not now, am I?”

He watched Adam’s jaw set, lips twisting into a frown, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Ronan leaned forward, elbows now resting on his knees as he brought up his hands to rest under his chin. “It’s your turn.”

Adam became rigid, eyes darting around the room. Ronan noticed the way his hands clutched the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white. “Sometimes you get tired of having your dad use you as his personal punching bag.” He said it nonchalantly, but Ronan could tell Adam meant every word that he said.

Ronan’s problems no longer seemed so big.

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what else to offer up.

“Whatever. I left. It’s done.”

It seemed inappropriate, but Ronan wanted to reach out and offer Adam some sort of physical apology. But Adam didn’t want his pity, something he had already made clear. Ronan realized anything other than his silence might be taken the wrong way. Instead, he leaned back, his back now resting against the wall.  

“You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“No one else knows?”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t want people to pity me.”

There it was again. _Pity_. Ronan sometimes felt it – pity – whenever he was around Gansey for too long. He knew it wasn’t Gansey’s intention, knew that his friend was only concerned, but sometimes the lines between concern and pity became blurred. He would probably never see Gansey again.

“And you think I won’t pity you?”

“I know you won’t.”

Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam didn’t offer up anything else. Ronan had shared more about himself in the last 24 hours to this _stranger_ than he had since his father’s death. He was certain Adam was no different. Each had given themselves up to the other, had shown their vulnerabilities with little restraint.

Ronan fixed himself so that he could better watch Adam, who had taken to flipping through one of his textbooks. He could see Adam’s tired eyes, saw the way they fought to stay open. The clock continued to tick beside him, nearing one in the morning. Everything about Adam’s movements alluded to the fatigue that was beginning to consume his body. That’s when Ronan broke the silence.

“You should have the bed.”

When Adam turned, Ronan saw the beginnings of a protest form on his lips. In response, Ronan got up from the bed, gesturing to the unmade mess of sheets and pillows. Instead of going to the bed, Adam walked over to the drawers that contained his clothes.

“I’ll sleep on the bed if you do both of us a favor and shower.”

“Fine.” Ronan stood and accepted a towel and a caddy full of hygiene products from Adam. To keep Adam at ease, he also accepted a clean pair of clothes. “Thanks.” He left for the bathroom, thoughts running wild as he went over what had just transpired between Adam Parrish and himself.

He was staying the night, again, only this time he would be wearing Adam’s clothes. Ronan scrubbed at his scalp, telling himself over and over that this was nothing more than a small act of kindness.

The problem with Ronan, however, was that he wasn’t sure what he had done to earn the kindness of Adam Parrish, Adam who was hesitant to trust and quick to argue. He turned the handle on the shower, the water coming out a little warmer now. Ronan’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, and Adam Parrish was at the center of all of them.

The feeling was strange, foreign to him. He’d been in the company of Gansey and those that came attached to their relationship for the better half of his high school years. Yet, Ronan couldn’t recall a time he had ever felt as engulfed with any of them as he now did with Adam. 

He told himself it was nothing, no more than a byproduct of too much alcohol, a poor impulse decision, and Adam being the first face he saw in this unfamiliar city. Ronan shut off the water and readied himself before his mind conjured up another image. As he walked down the hall, Adam’s clothes hugging his body, Ronan did his best to remind himself that he was not, in fact, attracted to Adam Parrish.

 

* * *

 

 

**viii.**

With the room momentarily to himself, Adam had plenty of time to think. It was something he did not allow himself to do too often, but with everything that had happened, he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop himself.

Adam Parrish was the type to keep to himself, never one to volunteer details about his life to those he had only just met. He abhorred the first day of classes when the professor would ask everyone to go around the room and say their names, where they were from, and an interesting fact about themselves.

It was an invitation for pity and mockery alike.

Adam’s speech usually went something like –

            “ _Hi; I’m Adam from Virginia, and I’ve never been on a plane_.”

No last name, no hometown, and no one knowing that he had never been on a plane because he couldn’t afford a ticket. Though, Adam was certain he wouldn’t like flying anyway.

For all the tiptoeing he had done around the details of his life, however, he seemed to have leapt right into sharing himself with Ronan. He didn’t know whether to be angry with himself or proud that he was learning what it meant to trust someone who’s name wasn’t Adam Parrish.

Now seated on his bed, he closed his eyes. He felt his body go a bit fuzzy, the tips of his fingers tingling as sleep began to take its hold.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Adam’s eyes opened, blinking away the few moments of rest he had stolen. Ronan, standing in the doorway with a bundle under his arm quickly added an “Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” when he realized he had woken Adam.  

“I don’t have one.”

“I thought every college student had a phone.”

“You don’t.”

“I’m not in college, am I?”

He had a point, Adam admitted to himself. He watched as Ronan shut the door – Adam had left it open for him so that he wouldn’t get locked out, _again_ – and placed the things under his arm on the ground by his boots.

“Can it wait?” Adam almost felt bad about refusing Ronan’s request to make a call, but one look at the clock and the reminder that he had the bulk of his classes in the morning silenced any apprehensions over his refusal.

Ronan shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.”

Adam watched as Ronan seated himself on the floor, taking up what little space separated Adam’s desk and his bed. He knew firsthand how uncomfortable the floor was, but nothing about Ronan showed discomfort. If anything, Ronan seemed more at ease now than he had the short time they’d known one another. Adam could only guess at what had happened during his shower.

Adam got up, one last time, to turn off the light. He was cautious as he walked back to his bed; the last thing he wanted to do was trip over Ronan. When he was settled in his bed, body facing the wall, he heard Ronan’s voice.

“Do I have to remind you not to get abducted?”

Adam remained facing the wall, but there was an undeniable smile spreading across his lips. The feeling of warmth began to settle over his body, staying with him as he drifted into the first deep sleep he’d had in months.

Yes, in the morning Adam was still tired, something that had become a byproduct of who he was, but as he and Ronan walked to the phone booth together, he didn’t seem to mind. He couldn’t help but grin as Ronan, ever graceless, tried to navigate the too small booth.

Adam had fifteen minutes before class, but he decided to stay in Ronan’s company just a little bit longer, at least until the phone conversation finished. He didn’t know what had inspired Ronan to call someone, nor did he know who the call was being delivered to, but as Adam Parrish was learning, communication was healthy.

"Gansey?"

Adam couldn't hear what was said on the other end, but by the way Ronan's lips began to twitch upward, the tiniest trace of a smile on his face, he knew it must not have been that bad. 

"Yeah.” Ronan said, followed quickly by, “Massachusetts." The smile was gone. "Look, I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm sorry. You don’t have t– _okay_." Adam watched Ronan curl and uncurl a fist he had formed with his free hand. The tension between Ronan and this _Gansey_ seemed palpable. "MIT." It was the last Ronan said before he hung up. 

"Well?" Adam asked as Ronan slid from the phone booth. 

"Well," Ronan repeated, but it wasn't a question. "You get to meet the babysitter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me a month, but I decided to write the continuation. My current plan is to write one final part. Thank you for sticking with me, or joining for the first time, all the same.


	3. three.

**i.**

Approximately ten hours stood in the way of Richard Gansey III's arrival, approximately ten hours until Ronan Lynch got in a car and left behind Cambridge, Massachusetts and all the people in it. Approximately ten hours and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Adam was in class, and Ronan didn't know anyone else. He feared he'd slip if he wandered too far into the city, allowing familiar faces like  _ Smirnoff _ and  _ Hennessy _ to taunt him with their empty promises. 

So he sat on a bench outside of the building Adam's last class would be in, waiting. Patience was a virtue Ronan Lynch did not possess, however. His foot tapped against the pavement, watchful eyes following students as they walked across campus. No one spoke to him, nor did they offer him a smile. He was nothing to them in the same way they were nothing to him.

A bell chimed, doors opened. Students came out of the academic buildings, their voices a distasteful melody to Ronan’s ears.

“Hey,” the sun was out and Ronan had to shield his eyes when he looked up to the source of the greeting. Adam, bag slung lazily over his shoulder, stood before him. “I’m starving.” He added, giving Ronan no time to offer up a  _ hello _ of his own.

“Are you stating a fact or inviting me to eat with you?”

“Both.” Adam’s lips twisted upward into a sort of grin.

Ronan wanted to look away, to stand up and walk in the opposite direction of wherever Adam Parrish was headed. But he didn’t,  _ couldn’t _ . He saw something there, in the way Adam’s face shifted when he smiled. The way his eyes came to life, his obvious exhaustion diminished by a sudden burst of warmth.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Ronan didn’t realize he had said it aloud until Adam’s smile left his face, eyes dulling with its disappearance.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

Adam didn’t press and Ronan stood from the bench. As they walked together to the dining hall, Ronan reminded himself over and over that Gansey would be there by evening. Reminded himself that he was not attracted to Adam Parrish.

 

* * *

 

 

**ii.**

Adam had found it difficult to sit through his lectures, more difficult than usual. It was Friday. But beyond that, he was both mentally and physically fatigued from a week of late nights, long shifts, and Ronan Lynch’s entrance into his life.  _ Ronan Lynch _ ; the source of his inability to pay attention.

Someone Adam would consider an acquaintance had leaned over to him during his architectural history class to ask why he wasn’t taking notes, that surely the information would all be on the final. Adam had shrugged, saying everything the professor had lectured on thus far was in the book.

The acquaintance didn’t like his answer and went back to jotting down everything that came from the professor’s mouth. Adam turned his thoughts back to Ronan.

Now, as Adam fell in stride with Ronan, he focused on the subpar meals that would be waiting for him at the dining hall. He told himself Ronan would soon be gone from his life, and that his thoughts needed to reflect this change.

They didn’t speak much throughout the meal, letting the hundreds of other students around them fill the gap with their endless chatter. When they were finished, Adam led Ronan back to his room where uneasy silence waited for them. The already small room felt smaller as Adam took a seat at his desk, Ronan standing near the door.

“You can sit.” Adam gestured to the bed. Ronan didn’t move.

Instead, he said, “I think I should leave.”

It took a moment, but when the words finally hit, Adam could feel their impact. “I thought, uh–” he faltered, something he tried so hard never to do, “–Gansey was going to meet you here.” Had he gotten the name right? Did it matter?

“He is.”

Adam didn’t follow, frustration now settling over him. He could feel it in his fingertips, felt it as his nails dug into the palm of his hand. For a brief moment the room went white, his eyes closing and a frown taking over his face. When he blinked it was gone. His hand fell to his lap and the wrinkles smoothed on his forehead.

Adam only hoped Ronan was more concerned with himself, and not with the anger that had momentarily flared up inside him. He tried so hard not be his father, tried so hard to separate himself from that part of his life. He was not his father.  _ He was not his father _ . But, he was his father’s son. No matter how hard he tried, there was biological proof that Adam Parrish stemmed from the same beaten and worn down tree that created Robert Parrish.

And this proof terrified Adam.

“Adam?”

Ronan was closer now, hovering in front of Adam, legs brushing against the bed.

Adam looked up, feigning innocence, “Hm?”

“What the hell just happened? Your eyes did this thing – it was really fucking creepy.”

So Ronan had been paying attention. Adam could feel his ears turning pink. The truth was, Adam didn’t know what had happened. Or, if he did, he was keeping it from himself.

“I’m just really tired.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. It was something in between.

Ronan stared at him, unconvinced. “Do you work tonight?”

The question caught Adam off-guard, having nothing to do with what they had been previously discussing. “No.” He replied, finding a pen on his desk and twirling it between his fingers. The pen became his focus, eyes lost in the mess of black that turned at his command.

“We should go out.”

The pen slipped, clattering back onto the desk. Ronan took notice, and Adam watched the wild grin as it covered his face. “Damn, Parrish. Not like that.” _Not like what?_ Adam didn’t have time to ask for clarification before: “I meant we should get out of here, do something _fun_. Last night on Earth, or whatever.”

Adam ran a hand along the base of his neck, fingers collecting beads of sweat. “I don’t drink.”

“Did I say drinking would be involved?”

No, he hadn't, and Adam recognized that. He also recognized the pink that was beginning to spread from his ears to his cheeks. Embarrassment began to eat at him, gnawing away at the wall of confidence he tried to build up around himself. He had assumed something about Ronan, and his assumption had been wrong.

Silence grew out of the roots of failed conversation.

“Or we could sit here and not speak.” Ronan, voice ever blunt, said. He eyed the clock, and Adam couldn't help but wonder if he was counting down the seconds until he drove as far from Adam as he could manage. “Your call, Parrish.”

Adam shifted his posture, sitting up a little straighter. “Let’s go out.”

And so they went out, walking together in the midafternoon sun, Adam navigating around the central parts of campus while Ronan remained at his side.

 

* * *

 

**iii** . 

Ronan was alive. 

That’s not to say he hadn't been alive before and had just now come into existence, but rather, he now felt his senses as they relit even the darkest corners of his body. What a feeling, being alive. It was in the buzzing of insects around his head, the way the leaves crunched under his feet. The sensation of being in the company of another and not disliking the way his body reacted to it.

The last time he had felt this way, Niall Lynch had been alive. 

Adam took him to one of the parks just outside of the main campus, admitting he didn’t have much experience with  _ going out _ . Ronan watched the way his lips twisted upwards as he said this, the way he ran a hand through his hair before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. 

“This is fine.” Ronan replied, his own hands shoved firmly into his jeans’ pockets.

Adam gave a nod of his head, “Okay.”

They walked through the park, neither saying much. Ronan pointed out a child who had dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk, Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan offered to buy Adam ice cream, Adam rejected his offer. They continued walking.

The sun sank lower in the sky with each passing minute, an autumnal breeze now drifting through the park. Ronan could see the hair on Adam’s arms sticking up, and his own arms were prickling with the sudden drop in temperature. If he were anyone else, Ronan would have offered Adam some form of warmth. But he was not. He kept to himself and walked along until Adam stopped beside a food vendor. 

“Hungry?”

Ronan nodded, whatever he had eaten at the dining hall had been insubstantial in size and lackluster in taste. He graciously pulled a few crumpled bills out of his back pocket and gave them to the vendor in exchange for food that looked equally as insubstantial in size and lackluster in taste as his previous meal.

He followed Adam to a spot underneath a nearby tree, the bark scratching against his head as he leaned back. When Adam sat, he also sat, and together they ate their lackluster food in comfortable and calming silence. Ronan concentrated his eyes on his meal, or at least he tried to. A glance here or there set his thoughts ablaze.

For every reason Ronan had to kiss Adam Parrish right then and there, a counter reason accompanied it. The way Adam’s eyes caught the last traces of light - reason to kiss. The little time he had known him - reason not to kiss. To kiss: Adam’s hands as they plucked at strands of grass, the way he held them between his fingertips before releasing them back to the earth. Not to kiss: Gansey arriving soon and Adam becoming a thing of the past.

The internal battle went on until Adam spoke, “Where are you meeting Gansey?”

“I just told him where I am...” Ronan ran a hand over his head. He could feel his hair growing back, another reminder as to why he needed to leave, or at least purchase a razor. “I didn't realize how big this place was.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, “Then how will he find you?”

The image of Gansey navigating the streets of Cambridge in his horrendously loud Camero made Ronan smirk. “We’ll hear him coming.” He didn’t elaborate, and the confusion that settled across Adam’s face only furthered his blissful mood. 

_ How he could lean closer, press his lips against - _

“Well, we should probably get going.” 

Ronan nodded and swiftly stood up, blissful mood subsiding as he tried to push from his mind every thought of his lips touching against Adam’s lips. Adam didn’t seem to notice a change as they left the park behind, zigzagging through the unruly Cambridge streets on their way back to campus.

 

* * *

 

**iv.**

“Do you know when he'll be here?” Adam asked as he and Ronan lingered outside of one of the academic buildings. He didn’t look at Ronan as he said this, but kept his eyes fixed on the expanse before him. Cars came and went, taking their occupants to places Adam could only dream of going to. With each car that passed, he imagined a new scenario.

_ A mother coming home after a late night, a government employee with a dark secret _ . 

He realized Ronan had said something a moment too late. It didn’t matter, Ronan had caught the sound of something familiar and had begun to walk towards the road. Adam did his best to keep up. 

Parked on the street was a horrendously colored Camaro, with an equally horrendously dressed boy leaning against it, cell phone poised a few inches from his face. Adam didn’t have to guess, he knew this was Gansey. The combination of a turquoise polo shirt and expensive chinos bewildered Adam, a stark contrast to the black-on-black-on-black he had been accustomed to seeing Ronan wear. 

His overly polite voice was even more shocking than the shade of his shirt. “Adam Parrish, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand, to which Adam gave a quick shake. Ronan sulked against the Camaro. “Ronan was just catching me up to speed.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Adam didn’t know what to make of Gansey. He possessed a certain power Adam hoped to one day obtain. The effortless flow of his words, no Henrietta accent hindering his speech. “Pleasure to meet you too.”

Gansey beamed. Ronan appeared to retreat further into himself. 

“Well,” Gansey looked from Adam to Ronan before settling his focus back on Adam, “thank you for keeping Ronan company, but we should probably go.” To Ronan he added, “I dropped Noah and Jane off at the hotel.”

Adam watched as Ronan clenched and unclenched his jaw, shoulders bristling, “You brought everyone?”

Everything in Adam’s body told him to retreat. He knew what the beginnings of a fight looked like, having been on the receiving end too many times before. He thought of something to say, a clever line that would make Ronan smile, forgetting, if only for a moment, why he was angry. 

Lucky for him, Gansey became preoccupied with an incoming call. Adam and Ronan exchanged a look. 

“What are you talking about?” Gansey said into the phone, free hand running a thumb across his lower lip. “There has to be a mistake.” A pause while he listened, “Yeah, he’s fine.” Some more listening and then Gansey hung up, or perhaps was hung up on. He then addressed both Adam and Ronan, “I seem to have misbooked our room.”

Ronan eyed him. Adam remained unfazed; this didn’t concern him.

“We only have one bed.” 

Adam looked from Gansey, who wore an apologetic smile on his face, to Ronan, ever brooding. He watched as Ronan began to formulate a response, watched the way his face became all hard edges and discontentment. 

“I have a bed and a floor,” The words were out before Adam could take them back after a moment’s reconsideration. “If you didn't want to pay for another room…”

Ronan’s face softened, just slightly. Gansey’s regained a handsome glow. Adam forced his hands into his pockets. 

Around them traffic buzzed. Students began to crawl out of their residencies, their voices raised in a blissful melody as they prepared for a night moving from party to party. And after a moment, Adam was directing Gansey to a parking lot he assured him his car would be safe in for the night and a phone call was being made to assure the two waiting in the hotel room that everything would be  _ okay _ . 

Adam’s room for one had opened its doors to two new occupants.

 

* * *

 

  
**v.**

Seeing Gansey and Adam interact was nothing short of strange for Ronan. Having to share a room with the two of them appeared even more strange. The three stumbled their way into Adam’s dorm room, Gansey chatting idly with Adam and Ronan throwing in a comment every once in awhile that earned him a sigh from one party and an eye-roll from the other.

The evening was strange. 

Adam’s room did not suddenly expand because there was another new occupant for the night. Having the three of them share the room, Ronan found, was completely impractical. Ronan silently wished Gansey would realize this and leave to rejoin Blue and Noah at the hotel. The way conversation drifted between Adam and Gansey left Ronan believing nothing of the sort would happen. 

Gansey, standing a few steps away, was absolutely enthralled by Adam Parrish. Ronan fixated himself on Adam’s bed, back pressed against the wall. From his seat he listened to Gansey tell Adam the same stories he had heard one too many times before. He watched the way Adam nodded his head, obvious exhaustion on his face.

Adam’s laugh, Gansey extending a fist for Adam to bump. 

“I’ll be back.” Conversation stopped when Ronan stood up, walking past the two in favor of exiting the room. He closed the door behind him. 

Ronan knew what it was like to feel anxious, to feel on the verge of self-destruction. It was the sensation of seeing your father’s corpse, of being stripped of a kingdom that belonged to you. It was the realization that he would always be alone.

He navigated through the residence hall, finding a staircase that took him down to the basement. A dimly lit laundry room awaited him, one student already inside tossing dirty clothes and  _ Tide Pods _ into a washing machine. 

They regarded one another - Ronan, dark and brooding, and the student, tired and unsuspecting. The student quickly started his machine and left the room. 

_ Alone. Alone. Alone _ . 

Ronan’s thoughts spun in time with the washing machine. He was alone now, physically by himself, and he knew that once he left the laundry room he would continue to be alone. No matter the company he surrounded himself with, the feeling of genuine connection seemed lost. 

They were selfish thoughts, the ones that passed through his mind just then, but they were undeniably his. A perfect reflection of the way he felt. Gansey had driven ten hours just because Ronan had asked. Noah and Blue accompanied him for no other reason than to see to it that Ronan made it back safely. He had Matthew, who's carefree way of living brought the tiniest traces of a smile to Ronan’s lips.

And Adam. Adam who had taken him in, who had offered him clothes and food and countless other unsaid things that replayed in Ronan’s mind.

Ronan kicked a dryer with a sign taped over it reading  _ OUT OF ORDER _ . He let the momentary sting comfort him, mingling with the anger that had manifested itself inside of him. Where his anger was normally directed at someone or something, everything he felt now centered on him. 

He kicked the dryer again.

“I don't think kicking it will make it work.”

Ronan turned, repressing his feelings as he had so many times before, and regarded the source of the noise. “Not with that attitude, Parrish.”

 

* * *

 

**vi.**

When Ronan had abruptly left the room, Gansey and Adam had agreed to give him ten minutes of space. If he wasn't back within the allotted time frame, Adam was to look first, then Gansey. A collective effort would follow if neither managed to locate Ronan. 

Adam watched Gansey’s countenance change following Ronan’s departure, his polished edges breaking down, revealing the weight of every burden or strife he carried with him. Gansey reached into his pocket and pulled out a mint leaf from a rusty tin. He placed it on his tongue and then offered one to Adam, who refused. 

The two began an endless dance of pacing and worry, watching minutes on the clock tick by as they moved about the room. Gansey’s obvious discomfort was apparent to Adam, unspoken anxieties present that Adam didn't know if he should ask about. 

“It's been ten minutes.” Adam looked over to Gansey, who had taken a seat on Adam’s bed. “I'll search the building and then come back. Don't leave this room until then, okay?”

Gansey nodded.

Finding Ronan in the laundry room, Adam told himself, was nothing more than a bit of luck. He had simply visited all of the communal spots in the hall, working his way down from the floor he lived on. Had Ronan left the building, his task would have been much harder. 

Adam watched the way Ronan’s face shifted when he approached. A hard frown was betrayed by eyes pooled with an unspoken sadness. Adam was quickly learning that there were two versions of Ronan Lynch; the one who showed himself to the world, and the one - beaten and broken down - who only came out when he thought no one was watching.

Adam found himself in the company of the second.

“What happened up there?” Adam asked, leaning against one of the unused washing machines. 

Ronan crossed his arms over his chest, “Happened where?”

“You left the room.”

“I said I would be back.”

Adam pushed down whatever anger began to flare inside of him. He would not make this about himself. “Gansey was worried.” He didn’t know how to admit that he too had been worried. 

“Gansey worries.”

Adam blinked for a second too long, gathering his thoughts and aligning his words. “I was worried too.”

“I’m flattered, Parrish.” Ronan’s seemingly uncaring tone was betrayed by the way his posture became a little straighter, eyes looking just beyond Adam when he said this. Ronan cared that Adam cared. 

Adam took a step closer to Ronan, his newfound knowledge becoming the forefront of all of his thoughts, reliving every short-lived moment they had shared. He saw it in the stolen glances, in the way Ronan’s smile could linger for just a second too long. He hadn't realized it until he saw the way Ronan interacted with Gansey. A brotherly bond built, not on blood, but on shared experiences and troubled memories. It was not the same way Ronan interacted with Adam. There was something there, waiting just below the surface.

But a person’s heart, Adam warned himself, was not a thing to be toyed with. 

His own heart had been starving for so long, deprived of love and human connection. The tainted memories of a loveless childhood left Adam Parrish longing for something he believed he could never have. When Adam took a step closer to Ronan, he let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone, anyone, tell him that he was loved. He wondered if he could ever say those words back.

His thoughts were silenced by an approaching pair of footsteps.

“Parrish!” Adam looked away from Ronan, regarding the newcomer with dissatisfaction. “Look at us. Two dudes in the laundry room on a Friday night. Crazy, right?” The newcomer - Tad Carruthers - navigated around the laundry room, retrieving his clothes from a washing machine and tossing them into the dryer furthest from where Ronan stood. Adam hated Tad, a fact that seemed obvious to everyone except Tad himself.

Adam nodded, “Crazy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Ronan smile. 

Tad winked, “See you in class.” 

Adam gave a wave, then Tad was gone and Adam turned his focus back to Ronan. 

Ronan imitated Adam’s “ _ Crazy _ ,” and the pair fell into a triumphant fit of laughter. Adam felt himself drawn to Ronan in this state, euphoria ebbing away at his nerves. They were close now, wild eyes and hungry smiles inviting the other in. 

_ One step closer and our lips could touch - _

“We should go.” Adam said, taking a step back and letting the moment pass. He left the laundry room, hoping Ronan would follow. His cheeks burned.

 

* * *

 

**vii.**

Had Adam Parrish tried to kiss him?

Ronan didn’t have time to dwell on it, he kept his head ducked slightly and walked one step behind Adam the entire way up to the room. When the door was opened and he caught sight of Gansey flipping through a book on Adam’s desk, Ronan reminded himself of what was to follow. There would be no kisses, no expressions of feelings Ronan wasn’t sure he even had the words for. He would spend the night on Adam’s floor, closing his eyes but not sleeping, until Gansey drove him far, far away.

Then life would resume.

Relationships could be a complicated thing, and Ronan did not fare well with the complicated. They were an invitation for another loss, something Ronan wondered if he could handle. He pushed the thoughts away and took up a seat on one end of Adam’s bed, not bothering to ask permission. Adam sat down on the opposite end, back resting against the cream-colored wall.

Ronan allowed himself to watch the way Adam’s eyes remained closed for a second too long when he blinked, the way his face twisted as he pushed down a yawn. He himself was tired, fuzziness beginning in his fingertips and spreading up his arms. The vaguest trace of hunger lingered in his stomach. 

The clock inched past midnight. 

The room was quiet. Gansey thumbed through Adam’s textbooks while Adam teetered on the edge of sleep. Ronan felt unnerved, the silence causing unwanted thoughts to prick at his consciousness. Left alone with his thoughts, Ronan was a dangerous and damaged thing. 

He stood up for the second time that evening. Gansey closed his book, and Adam’s posture became rigid, muscles working to leap from the bed if needed. When Ronan moved to the door, Adam looked to Gansey before standing up and following. Then Gansey stood.

Wordlessly, they filed out of the room and down the hall, navigating staircases and drunken party-goers on their way out of the building. The night was cold, uninviting against Ronan’s exposed skin. 

The three wandered on until they found themselves in the parking lot of a  _ Sunoco _ . Ronan glimpsed a lone worker in the window, her tired eyes and worn smile attesting to the hour. The atmosphere thrilled Ronan, inviting him into the dimly lit paradise. 

One by one they entered.

Time felt a little off-kilter, a dreamscape of stale coffee and overpriced candy bars. Ronan opened one of the refrigerators that lined the back wall, grabbing two bottles of orange juice. He found enough money for his purchase and was told to have a nice night. Adam lingered near the door, a silent observer. Ronan gave a nudge with his elbow, and at once Adam followed him out of the store, leaving Gansey to wander the aisles and strike up conversation with the underpaid employee. 

“How did the two of you become friends?” Adam asked, moving to sit on the pavement. 

Ronan shook his head, silent laughter spilling from his lips as he joined Adam. “Not what you were expecting?” 

Adam admitted Gansey had come as a surprise. 

“First day of school. The teacher forced me to sit next to him” Ronan remembered it, arriving early to Latin and finding a seat in the back. Gansey arriving a moment after and eyes teetering between the front row and the spot beside Ronan. He had chosen the front, the teacher had made Ronan join him after an act of insubordination. 

Memories of life with Gansey filtered through him. He saw late nights driving through town, saw laughter and too much pizza and antics Gansey chastised but Ronan knew he loved. There was Gansey staying up with him the night Niall Lynch died, Gansey offering comfort when Ronan began to cry. Memories of moving in with Gansey, of finishing high school together.

If Adam had said something, Ronan wasn’t listening. When the door opened and Gansey joined them, Ronan wordlessly tossed him an unopened bottle of orange juice. The bottle was accepted with gratitude as Gansey joined the pair on the curb.

Ronan liked this feeling, Gansey on one side of him and Adam on the other. He listened to the sounds of distant voices drifting from the bars, heard car horns and electronic music as it pumped out of stereos. Gansey’s voice brought him back.

“Is something wrong?” He was speaking into the cell phone, tone at once presidential and concerned. “No, I’m in the parking lot of a  _ Sunoco _ .” Ronan watched the way he tilted his head up to read the sign. 

Gansey stood up and began to walk around the empty gas station lot. 

“Do you think everything’s okay?” Adam asked. Ronan felt their shoulders touch, the way Adam leaned in to keep his voice just above a whisper. Warm breath against his ear. 

The sudden jolt that began to pump through him. 

Ronan, toneless, said, “Probably.” 

Adam shifted, just enough that any touch was gone. Gansey had returned and began to move apologetic eyes from one boy to the other. 

“What?” Ronan asked.

“Noah and Blue are on their way over.” Ronan opened his mouth to speak, teetering on indignation, but was silenced when Gansey continued. “They left the room key in the room, and since the room is booked under my name-”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

It wasn’t that Ronan disliked Noah and Blue. In fact, he had grown attached to them in ways similar to his attachment to Gansey. Noah always listened, and Blue’s humor was something Ronan could respect. It was guilt, rather, that gnawed at him as he waited for them to arrive. After everything, after late nights in shopping center parking lots and the good natured fights that resulted from games of pool, Ronan had left, abruptly. There had been no goodbyes because there had been no intention of a return. 

He began to think about what his departure meant to them. Then he stopped, because like Gansey, they had dropped everything to be with him again. 

His heart surged.

 

* * *

 

**viii.**

Adam recognized Blue Sargent immediately. She had been in his year at Mountain View High School, though the two never spoke. Much like himself, he always found Blue seated with others at lunch and during pep assemblies, but none of her  _ friendships  _ seemed genuine either.

“You’re Adam.” Fact.

“You’re Blue.” Also fact.

The other, Noah, was a face unfamiliar. He gave Adam a quick “ _ Hello _ ,” and Adam returned the greeting. The two said nothing else. 

Adam fell into the background following the short greetings. He became an observant as Blue inquired the details of Ronan’s departure, watched the way Ronan elbowed Noah, a sharp grin spreading across his face. Gansey made a joke, Ronan harrassed him for it. Laughter rang across the parking lot, laughter Adam knew was not his to share in.

He saw himself as a placeholder, a momentary distraction Ronan had taken an interest in while he sorted himself out. Adam could see it; Ronan and Gansey walking back to the hotel with the others, euphoric laughter drifting off of them. Four restless bodies finding space in a room designed for two. Adam saw himself walking home, alone. He would perhaps take a shower, then settle into his bed and drift off. He would wake to find his life monotonous and mundane once more. 

“Parrish.” Ronan’s voice.

Adam turned his head, thoughts subsiding as he settled his eyes on Ronan. “Hm?”

“They’re going to pick up the Pig and head to the hotel.” Ronan nodded his head to where three bodies drifted further from Adam’s sightline. 

Adam didn’t question why they were picking up a pig, he questioned why Ronan hadn’t gone with them.

“I figured I should say goodbye. You’re officially free from me.”

_ You’re officially free from me _ . 

There was this: Ronan ready to leave, Adam’s acceptance of the inevitable. Ronan taking a step away, Adam remaining where he stood. The sound of Ronan’s voice, a breathy “ _ Fuck it _ .” Gaps closing, lips meeting 

There was this: Ronan Lynch kissing Adam Parrish in the parking lot of a  _ Sunoco _ . 

Adam had been kissed exactly once in his life. He had been eight, maybe nine, playing hide-and-seek with some of the kids living in the trailer park. A girl his age, her name long forgotten, had urged him to hide in her father’s shed with her. The shed was dark, space compact, and Adam remembered the sensation of their bodies close together. 

Then she had kissed him, youthful giggles spilling out. In the dark, she had been unable to see the blush as it creeped over his cheeks. He had surrendered the game, had returned home and climbed onto his mattress, a flurry of embarrassment and bewilderment. The girl never spoke to him again. 

Kissing Ronan felt different. He wanted this.  _ He wanted this.  _ He longed for this feeling, Ronan’s careful hands finding their way up Adam’s arms. The lingering traces of orange juice on Ronan’s breath. The uncertainty that washed over both of them when their lips parted. Adam saw it in Ronan’s eyes, the way he scanned the area around him but never settled his gaze on Adam. They stood apart now, just slightly. Adam watched the way his teeth sank into his bottom lip, body swaying this way and that. 

“Ronan.” Firm, direct. 

Ronan stopped, stilled himself and looked at Adam. “Sorry.”

Weary eyes met weary eyes, apologetic smiles exchanged. Adam let his thoughts wander just past the shore, wading in the temperate waters. Ronan had kissed him, fact. Adam had enjoyed it, fact. Facts began to pile up, pieces aligning. Then, the inevitable -

“You have to leave.” It wasn’t a command.

“I know.” 

Adam Parrish scolded himself. He knew he wasn’t worthy of this, the feeling of having someone. He was a damaged thing, an irreversible mess of memories and mannerisms. He told himself no one deserved to be dragged down with him. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” 

Adam’s head spun. “I have school, my job-”

Ronan’s laughter grounded him, “Damn Parrish, I meant to the hotel.”

“Right.”

They navigated the streets together, turning corners and looking to the sky in search of the hotel. The two remained apart, but every so often Adam could feel his hand, his arm, his shoulder, as it brushed against Ronan’s. His body’s way of telling him he deserved this. 

They found the hotel and were greeted by Blue’s voice, reproaching Ronan for taking so long. She raised an eye at Adam before turning and walking toward the elevator. They followed. 

In the room, Gansey tossed a bag at Ronan, ordering him at once to shower and change. Adam was left alone to sit on the pullout couch, while the remaining three relaxed across the bed. The room was not the disaster Gansey had made it out to be. The bed, a king, could easily the fit three. The pullout couch appeared spacious enough for another.  The room was much more accommodating than Adam’s dorm room. 

As he sat there, a silent observer, he could feel the exhaustion, could feel the tired ache in his bones. His eyes closed, sleep beginning to take its hold. A nudge against his shoulder and he was back to the present. 

All lights but the desk lamp had been turned off, the room quiet and hazy. Adam looked to the bed where three bodies lay in slumber before looking to Ronan. He smelled fresh, clean clothes covering his body and the traces of lotion on his skin. 

When Ronan spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper, “Would it be weird if we-?” he gestured to the pullout couch they currently sat on. 

“I-” Would it be weird? Adam considered it, sleeping in close quarters with someone at once unfamiliar and familiar. The feeling of having someone there, of comfort. A feeling he had pushed away time and time again, out of fear and out of worry. No, he wanted this. “I don't think so.”

They settled in, Adam facing one way and Ronan the other. He could feel the way Ronan’s body moved with each inhale and exhale, the way Ronan’s foot drifted overtop of Adam’s own. The feeling of closeness, of desire and longing. 

“Watch out for aliens.” It was Adam who said it, face warm with a smile. Beside him, he could feel Ronan’s laughter vibrating against his back. 

“Shut up, Parrish.”

Adam Parrish did not believe in fate, he saw no divine being outlining the cosmic order of the universe. He believed in this: the feeling of contentment he had found in opening himself up to another. The unsteadiness, the uncertainties of the future, beginning to ease. Adam Parrish, army of one, had found a new recruit. 

He turned his head upward, looking to where Gansey, Blue, and Noah slept. Perhaps he could learn to count on them too. 

Adam fell asleep that night with a smile on his lips and warmth in his chest.

 

* * *

 

**_(+)_ **

Morning came - the sun rose as it always did. Five bodies woke, stretching limbs and blinking away the last traces of sleep. Gansey went with Blue and Noah to breakfast; Adam and Ronan assured them they would be there in a moment. 

Now, Ronan felt everything that had happened rush over him. He was unsteady, wave after wave crashing over him. The kiss.  _ Crash _ . Sharing a bed.  _ Crash _ . Adam’s voice.  _ Crash _ .

“Is this something?” 

Ronan shrugged, “It could be.”

Adam’s face, the hope hiding behind his ever-tired eyes, assured Ronan it would be.   
  


Communication was a challenge. Adam didn’t have a phone and Ronan despised the one he possessed. They fell in and out of touch as the weeks brought on the promise of winter break. Some days a chain of emails would be exchanged back and forth. Others, a simple:

_ How was class? _

_ Bearable. _

Then hours of nothing. 

They managed, however, both with the knowledge that this feeling was new for the other. Opening up, sharing, relying on another person for support, things that had not been commonplace, were slowly nestling themselves into their lives. At times it was awkward, others uncertain. There were arguments, discrepancies that were not easily resolved over email or phonebooth conversations. 

They were learning the other as much as they were learning themselves. 

Now, after a bit of coaxing, Ronan found himself in the car, driving to pick Adam up from school. The semester had ended and Adam had agreed to stay with Ronan (and the other occupants of Monmouth Manufacturing) until the spring semester began. 

Ronan turned up the volume, a terrible electronic beat rocking the interior of the car, as he waited where he had agreed to meet Adam. Failed plans and personal anxieties meant this would be the first time Ronan would see Adam in person since Ronan’s return to Henrietta weeks before. 

Nervous palms ran along the steering wheel, eyes scanning for any sign of Adam. He felt the momentary stop of his heart when the car door opened. 

“Hey.” The familiarness of his voice.

Car door closing, Adam now sat in the passenger seat of the BMW, his single bag resting at his feet. Ronan’s electronic mix became the only source of noise as the two regarded one another, unsure eyes searching for a signal to proceed. 

Adam spoke up, “Your taste in music is terrible.”

“You can walk to Henrietta.”

Smiles emerged, wide and toothy and full of words unspoken.  _ I missed yous _ , came in the form of kisses.  _ How have you beens,  _ were Adam’s hands warm against Ronan’s skin. 

_ Everything will be okay _ was this: Ronan driving through the night, Adam at his side. Music blaring and voices rising in an inharmonious symphony as they passed the Henrietta sign. It was Adam’s nervous gaze staring out the window, memories of his father trying to breach the surface. But it was also this: Ronan’s hand in his as they entered Monmouth Manufacturing. It was Gansey and Blue and Noah and someone named Henry greeting Adam, not as a stranger, but as a friend. 

It was Adam falling asleep beside Ronan, the sound of Ronan’s breathing lulling him to sleep. It was the onset of change, not feared as it had once been, but welcomed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me as I embarked on my first multi-part pynch fic.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first pynch fic I've ever written, and the first thing I've written in well over a year. It's currently marked as complete, but I suppose I wouldn't be opposed to continuing it. The title comes from Fall Out Boy's (Coffee's For Closers), a song that I thought was kind of fitting. 
> 
> And huge shoutout to Emma for the account!!
> 
> Update: I've decided to continue with the fic, and currently have a rough outline for it to include another 2 parts!


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